


What Child Doesn't Wish to Fly?

by K1ngtok1



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Being an Idiot, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Knife Mention, Remus being Remus, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Winged Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Wingfic, blood mention, go drink some water, idk what im doing, im lomve you all, mild descriptions of pain, roman is my child, this is pretty much my first fic go easy on me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K1ngtok1/pseuds/K1ngtok1
Summary: Roman has wings. Let’s not shy around that. They were big, fluffy, brown angel wings, and they were awesome!At least to him.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 12
Kudos: 177





	What Child Doesn't Wish to Fly?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello yes if you know me, you know I love me some winged!Roman. Hope you like it! Please give me some feedback! Kudos and comments are appreciated and cherished! The word count is 2,603! I love you all!

Roman sighed as he easily slipped on a hoodie that looked almost exactly like his tunic. It wasn’t a recording day, so he could wear something a little more comfortable than his usual outfit. Tucking his wings into said hoodie was the hard part.

“W-why won’t you just- _c’mon_ ” he grunted angrily, trying to tuck the lower feathers of his wings into his jacket or at least his pants. It would be uncomfortable sitting on them, but if it meant the other sides didn’t find out, then he would bear with it.

“Kiddo! Breakfast is ready!” Patton chirped from outside the door. Roman panicked a little, he couldn’t let Patton come in, lest he see.

“I’m getting ready! Be out in a moment!” He called, managing to get the feathers of one wing inside his jacket, by the way they were angled, he could tell they were going to hurt later. Just another price he would have to pay to keep his secret hidden.

“Ok! Don’t take too long though, wouldn’t want your eggs to get cold.” Patton replied, leaving Roman to assume he walked down the hallway into the kitchen.  
  
Roman could _not_ let those eggs get cold. He increased his efforts, desperately swatting at his feathers before slowing down a little and finally being able to tuck them into his pants. The symmetry would bother him later, but all that mattered now was the his eggs stayed warm.

As Roman opened his door and started towards the kitchen, he thought about what this whole hiding-his-very-cool-wings thing was for.

This whole thing started because he was anxious. Wow, now was starting to sound like Virgil! But yes, he was …anxious. He was scared, terrified even, of what would happen if he were to reveal his extra limbs to the others.

You see, Roman hasn’t always had wings. After the split, Roman and Remus were your average, actually, scratch that, your not-so-average run of the mill twins, in that they hate each others guts most of the time, but Roman would gladly stab an army of dragon witches to death for his brother, as would Remus.

Being Thomas’ more… wholesome creativity, he was the one who took over aspects such as hopes and dreams. And Thomas, like any child, miiiiiight have had a tiny, no, huge dream of being able to fly. So imagine 8 year old Roman’s surprise when he feels sharp pains below his shoulder blades. It wasn’t agonizing just yet, but it was enough for Roman to summon his worse half.

“Is this an occult meeting? Was I finally summoned by my loyal followers? Where’s the bod-“ Remus stopped talking when he saw his brother curled up on his bed. “Oh wow, you look like someone stabbed you with a bunch of knives and didn’t stop the internal bleeding when they patched you back up,”

Roman could care less about Remus’ description of him at that point, the pain was worsening. Small spasms of pure hurt were shooting though him.

Remus, finally realizing that yes this is real and yes his brother is in pain, ran over to Roman, having to crawl up onto the bed in order to properly reach him. “What’s wrong?” Remus said, seriously, for probably the first and last time in his life.

“…h-hurts….m-my back…” Roman managed to squeeze out between pants and rapid breaths.

“Uh.. uhhhhhh,” Remus said, eloquently. He really was great at comforting others, wasn’t he.

Luckily, Remus didn’t have to think of a way to help Roman, because now his red and white leach of a brother was clinging to his midsection and getting his outfit wet with tears.

After ten very long minutes of agony, Roman felt… weird. His brain felt as if there was an army of ants crawling through it. Little ants with jackhammers and megaphones, that is. He could feel the comforter below him, but his arms were still wrapped securely around Remus. He had long pants on, so it couldn’t be his legs. And what was that weight on his back?

“Woah,” Remus whispered, astounded. “Look… y-you…”

Roman shifted slightly, trying not to move his sore body any more than he needed to, and proceeded to gasp at what he saw he saw. He was NOT expecting to see feathers, much less connected to him!

“Rem?” Roman was starting to panic. “W-why ar- is t-there…” he trailed off, more tears starting to fill his eyes. What was that? Why did it come out of him? What in the name of Cinderella’s left slipper was going on!?

After Remus somehow managed to calm down Roman (a miracle, truly), he started to admire his new additions. Somehow already feathered (he didn’t question it), they were a burnt amber color, with small ember-like sparkles dusted in places. He tried to lift one of the wings, but only managed a few inches before stopping.“…Im still confused,” he said, quietly. “Why… why do I have wings?” He asked.

“Well,” Remus started, “we could ask Logan?” He suggested. “He almost always has an answer for everything!” He said, smiling.

Roman thought about it for a minute. “No,”

Remus’ smile fell a little, “Why not?”

Roman sighed “Logan hates things that are ‘illogical’, and I think this counts,” he chuckled, lifting his wing up a little bit again.

Remus persisted, “What about-“

Roman cut him off, “I don’t think I wanna tell anybody, Rem. They’ll look at me weird,” he explained. This was a very plausible outcome in the child’s mind, that or he watched too many movies.

Remus looked like he wanted to argue, but Roman stared at him with a pleading look, and he backed down. The two brothers spent the rest of the day researching birds and testing out his wings in the imagination. He enjoyed himself.

“Earth to Roman, come in Roman,” he saw a hand waving in front of his face. His eyes followed the arm the hand was connected to and eventually landed on a sleep deprived Virgil’s face. He looked around, noticing how somehow he was sat at the bar in the kitchen, and had been blankly staring at the marble counter for about 5 minutes now.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized quickly, “Daydreaming,”

Virgil shrugged and went back to his food, allowing Roman to loose himself in his thoughts again. At least until Logan came into the room.

“Salutations,” he said, dryly. Not waiting for a response, he marched over to the fridge and pulled out a half full jar of crofters. During this, Roman remembered his eggs, which had cooled significantly, and started stuffing his face. Logan walked over to the seat on the other side of Roman, and sat down.

“Welp,” Virgil started, getting out of his seat and putting his dish in the sink, where Patton was washing them, “Imma go mentally prepare for the day, see y’all in like, two hours,” he started walking out of the room. Passing Roman, he gave him a rather large pat on the back.  
  


_Right on one of his wings._   
  


Roman’s eyes went wide. He sat strait up and dropped his fork as a weird tingling- almost painful sensation went down his spine. Everyone turned to look at him, Patton was concerned, and Logan had half his face full of jam. Virgil awkwardly pulled his hand away from Roman’s back.

“Are you ok, kiddo?” Patton questioned. Concern was evident in his eyes as he cocked his head slightly to the side.

“Everything’s fine, padre,” Roman assured the moral side, praying that no one questioned him further.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” Logan asserted. Roman was starting to internally panic.

“Seriously! I’m fine!” Roman racked his brain for an excuse, “Virgil’s hand was just really cold,” 

Virgil looked at him incredulously, “You’re wearing a hoodie,”

 _Fuck,_ Roman needed to work on his lying. He stood up out of his chair, “Thanks for breakfast, Padre, but I have some… script… stuff to work on,” he started to walk toward the hallway. Unfortunately Logan got there first, blocking the doorway.

“Not so fast, Roman. We know something is troubling you, and we are your friends, are we not? It would be emotionally beneficial for you to tell us, so that we may help,” Logan reasoned.

Roman was backed into a (metaphorical, he was really still in the middle of the kitchen) corner. “I told you, I’m fine!” He repeated. All he wanted was to get to his room and do something to make his wings stop feeling so uncomfortable.

“Bullshit” Virgil declared, ignoring the small ‘ _language_!’ from Patton, “You’re hiding something, and it’s hurting you, so give it up you limp noodle!”

The limp noodle in question was very panicked at this point, slightly shaking. He couldn’t let them know, he couldn’t. That would only mean bad things. He needs to get back to his room. He needs Remus. If they know they’ll hate him. He doesn’t want them to hate him.

Apparently he wasn’t hiding his panic as well as he thought was, because Patton walked over with a concerned frown, “Oh, Roman,” he put his arms around his child and squeezed him in a large bear hug.

 _Patton’s arms were right on Roman’s wings_.

Roman cried out and slumped against Patton, causing them both to fall to the tile floor below. He curled up into a ball, his breathing turning ragged. It hurt, it hurt just like the first time he got his wings. Only this time he didn’t have Remus. Apparently you’re not supposed to press down on the joints connecting the wings to the rest of the body.

Surprisingly, it was Virgil who was the first to act. “We need to get him to the couch. Patton, help me get his hoodie off, Logan, go get some heat packs” he ordered, thinking that Roman must suffer from back cramps or something similar.

Logan hesitated for a moment before rushing off, leaving the others to carry a slightly limp Roman to the couch in the living room. They tried to pull off the prince like hoodie, but because of the feathers tucked in haphazardly earlier, Roman cried out whenever they tried. Patton’s eyes lit up with an idea, and he rushed off to go find some scissors, letting Virgil sit there, holding the prince’s hand, trying to be a source of comfort for him.

Virgil was abso-fuckin-lutely freaking out internally, but he had to be there for his friends. Before long, Patton come back holding a pair of sharp scissors in his hands, taking care to walk, not run, like they tell you to do in school. He carefully snipped along one of the seams on Roman’s hoodie, silently promising to sew it back together later. He started to get confused when, among the red and gold of the prince’s t-shirt, there was a brown feather.

“Is that..?” Patton trailed off. He focused back on the hoodie. Soon, he had it all the way clipped, and was about to ask Virgil to help flip Roman onto his stomach in order to have better access to his back, when he saw more of those strange feathers.

“Virgil?” He looked toward the man in question.

The purple clad man noticed the feathers, alright. But he didn’t have time to wonder why Roman was keeping bird leafs in his jacket. “Help me flip him over,” he asked Patton, who nodded and set down the scissors.

Apparently Virgil DID have time to concern himself with the feathers in his friend’s jacket, seeing as those feathers were connected to said friend.“…I guess we know what he was hiding,” Patton chuckled.

This was the moment Logan decided to burst into the room carrying a multitude of heating elements. “I acquired some heat packs, as well as the rice sacks you place in the microwa-“ he stopped short, noticing the large bird wings attached to Roman’s upper back. “…I’m not even going to ask,” he stated. And set down the electronic heat packs, before taking the others into the kitchen.

Roman was… confused, to say the least. The pain has lessened to the point where he could think again, but the others had seen his wings, hadn’t they? Why weren’t they disgusted? He-he thought-

“Roman, kiddo,” Patton said to the winged side, “how are you holding up?”

Roman started tearing up, but he refused to cry, lest Patton think he was in more pain then he was, “I-it still hurts, but not as much,” he admitted, a small smile (or grimace, that too) gracing his features.

Patton nodded and leaned down to pick up one of the heat packs, which he plugged in to a nearby outlet. “I have a heat pack, do you think I could put it at the base of your wings?” He asked.

Roman nodded, and Patton placed the device on his back. Almost instantly the pain lessened. It was still there, but Roman felt like he could breathe again. Logan walked in and wordlessly handed the now warm heating packs to Patton, before sitting on the ground in front of the couch next to him. Patton held up a heating pack, gently placing it near the bottom of the wing base.

“So…” Virgil started, awkwardly, “This is what you’ve been hiding?” Some of his panic from earlier was slipping into his voice. Roman grabbed his hand from where he laid on the couch, which to be fair, was a little awkward, but Roman wanted to comfort Patton’s dead gay son.

“Yeah,” Roman replies breathlessly, rubbing his thumb over Virgil’s knuckles. No one spoke for a while.

Logan was the one to break the silence, “How long?”

Roman replied simply, “since we were eight,” he looked down at the ground and stopped rubbing Virgil’s knuckles.

“You didn’t need to,” Roman perked up when he heard Logan speak.  
  
“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“You did not need to hide this from us,” Logan assured, “These are beautiful. I have no idea why you would want to keep them hidden” he answered honestly.

Roman looked back down at the ground, feeling Virgil giving his hand reassuring squeezes. “Because… because I was scared,” he admitted, “I was scared you would think they were weird- think I'M weird,” he felt Patton’s hand on his shoulder.

_“We would never,”_

No more words needed to be said. Roman looked into Patton’s eyes and knew he was telling the truth. These were his friends. His family. They care about him. They won’t reject him. They aren’t going to leave him. Remus was right. Roman started to tear up a little.

“Thanks, padre,” his voice shook a little, bit one said anything about it, “can you help me sit up?”

Patton nodded, before grabbing his shoulders and sitting him up so that his wings were spread out in a way that would not hurt them further. There was some pleasant conversation between the winged side and his companions. Roman started to forget about the ache in his shoulder blades.

“I’m going to need to study your wings, Roman,” stayed Logan, “I want to see how they work in the air,”.

Roman grinned, “sure, I’d be happy to,”. He felt content sitting with his friends. Maybe he should have reveled his wings sooner.

“Roman?” Roman turned to look in the direction of the noise, “Why is it that you have wings?” asked Virgil.

Roman chuckled before answering,

**”What child doesn’t wish to fly?”**


End file.
